Arrows Through Archer

by Nash Summers

The thing that would beat in my chest thereafter would not be my heart. My heart collapsed that day. And now, I am an empty shell of the man I was supposed to become.

I wasn’t down. I was worse than down. Much worse.

People could see the storm cloud hanging over my head and the phantom at my back. They could hear the shattered glass clanking in my throat when I spoke, see a void in my eyes when my gaze met their own.

I was broken now, and I was utterly unfixable.

In that moment, I hated Danny and loved him so damn much. He was the only good thing in my life. I had no idea what I’d done to luck out with a friend like him, but I knew I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve his understanding. And it was that twisting feeling in my gut that made me hate him—hate him for being one of the only reasons the pieces of me were held together.

The same thing it always came down to: I, Archer Hart, couldn’t be trusted to be alone because my best friend thought the moment I was, I’d pull out my father’s old Smith & Wesson and blow my brains out.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel because there was no fucking tunnel. There was a pit and in that pit was nothing but darkness. In the center, stood I.

“Cold and beautiful, Archer. Some of the best things are.”

“You carry around hurt like a cop carries a badge.”

“Ah, Archer. We always hurt the ones we love.” “Why’s that, do you think?” “So that we know they love us too.”

You and your silent fucking depression—you and your quiet heart and your fear of living.

Sometimes Mallory tricked the silliness out of me.

The small moments of contentment weren’t worth this crippling pain. Life wasn’t worth this. How could it be when the people I loved most in the world were ghosts. I wasn’t all right. I wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t ever be okay.

Sometimes words weren’t enough. Sometimes words weren’t anything at all. So instead of using useless tools in a moment surrounded by darkness pushing at its edges, slowly, I reached out and laced my fingers with his. Without saying a word, he squeezed my hand and didn’t let go.

Sometimes, words meant nothing. Other times, they meant far, far too much.

But there was no certainty in that memory. There was only here and now and that chair I thought of as my own in this space where Mallory told me he found peace.

I hadn’t fully realized how much sunshine he brought into my world until it was taken away.

“She doesn’t like puzzles. Or whiskey.”

But Mallory and I fell into each other slowly, gently, tentatively, like almost everything we did. We were quiet and fluid.

for long minutes that weren’t nearly long enough, Mallory kissed me.

But here, in a town built between the mountains, standing next to my best friend’s father, I knew that I truly did feel happy.

“Touch me.” The words came out like a plea, dressed prettily in a tone I’d never heard from my voice. But I would’ve begged Mallory to touch me in that second. Hell, I would probably beg Mallory to touch me every second of every day for the rest of my life.

“You’ve got this old soul, and it’s serene and hushed and reminds me of the smell when it’s storming outside.”

Because that was all the world was to me from that point on. Mallory.

I could be patient. I could wait. For Mallory, I could wait a lifetime.

And because Mallory was the shoreline and I was the waves in the sea, gravity took hold and I was dragged into his arms.

That was all it took to break my heart. A two-letter word. Not a death in the family, not a sibling disowning me. A two-letter word from the man I loved.

“We can’t keep loving ghosts, Mallory.”

He might’ve still looked like an angel, but even from a mile away, I would be able to see the devil on his shoulder.

Archer wore his demons on the outside—just like me.

The moment I kissed him was the moment I realized how desperately I’d needed him. Maybe not just then. Maybe since the beginning of time.

all I could think of was that every part of his heart, body, and soul should be with me. Me. Only me.

I don’t think there’s a person in the world strong enough to deal with a sight like that, that look of utter desolation and pain on the face of a person you care for.

“Don’t bother coming after me this time, Mallory. It was last time that mattered.”

It was just a chair.

I hadn’t wanted to feel a soul-deep connection with my son’s best friend—a man almost twenty years my junior.

This. This is happiness. This is what I want.

I didn’t know if anyone was strong enough to say no to Archer.

I hoped he knew I’d do anything for him. I hoped he knew he was beautiful and imperfect and how desperately I wanted—needed—him to be happy.

Again, I felt that soul-deep connection to him. It was an ethereal sensation of belonging and pride, like his happiness was linked to my own and mine to his.

“I feel so light. Like maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel.” “There is.” I kissed the top of his head. “And if there isn’t, I’ll dig a way out for us. Because I’ll be wherever you are. Now and forever.”